


Boys Over Flowers

by merrabeth



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Boys Over Flowers au, I've made the entire Milkovich family blond again, M/M, rich!Mickey, yeah the Milkovichs are pretigious fuckers, yes including Mickey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:49:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2748335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrabeth/pseuds/merrabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boys Over Flowers AU where Mickey and his family are prestigious with a high ranking business family and Ian Gallagher is still the poor boy from a poversihed family that just wants to make it in life with the means life gives him. Of course, he wasn't planning on getting a full-ride scholarship to Lakeshore High, where the Milkovich siblings reign in terror under their soon-to-be-step-mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In honour of that show being fantastic ^_^ and yes I made the Milkovich family a bunch of blondes again. No one asked for it haha.  
> Enjoy.

Mickey wasn’t going to deny he loved having power. He wouldn’t deny himself the excitement he got, the waves of electricity coursing through his veins as he was able to do whatever he wanted without ever being reprimanded. And he liked controlling the mass. He liked how just a crimson sheet with a golden symbol of skull and crossbones with “M4” just underneath could shift the mood of the entire school from cheery to eerie. He almost dared to say it was a gift, this amount of control, he had.

He stood out where he was among his fellow classmates, waiting for the boy to open his locker, for the halls to go deathly silent, and to watch the colour leave from the boy’s face. It was all so refreshing, and he smiled as he got that feeling again.

His name was Jimmy or Johnny or Louis. He had shaggy hair, and he was a bit on the scrawny side. He watched the people around him in dread and confusion. Maybe he knew what he would find in his locker; this wasn’t his first time being the school target.

He put his hand on his locker before stopping, turning to scan the crowd that had populated. Once his eyes fell on Mickey, he stepped forward. Oh, Mickey enjoyed it more when they tried to fight back; all the more electricity, all the more exhilarating.

Mickey eased his way through the people, never taking his eyes off his prey. “You already know, don’t you?”

He could see Jimmy or Johnny or Louis tremble before him, like the antelope Mickey, the lion, was sure to pounce.

“I know,” his voice shook, “but I don’t know.”

“Maybe you should try and understand less; you don’t wanna use all that energy when you should be running.”

He saw something snap in his prey as he ran forward to shove Mickey back with enough force to make him fall to the ground. But Mickey was on his feet in an instant, already watching the mass run after his kill. He couldn’t get enough of how easily they followed. He wouldn’t deny himself how much power he felt.

* * *

 

Ian hated having to ride up here on his bike. Amongst the fancy cars and buildings, nothing screamed “poor” like an outdated bike weighed down by mounds of dry cleaning.

But he tried to focus on the sights before him as his thighs burned from the rather long drive. There was a peculiar fountain that looked like it could be a national landmark with its rusted metal statue of a horse on its hind hooves. That fountain would be off soon, retiring for the winter and only splayed as something called “art”. He rode on a stone path now, leading up to his destination. He was used to seeing the preppy uniforms; the khaki bottoms and the hand stitched navy blue blazers- but he still couldn’t feel at ease.

It didn’t matter. He could be out quickly enough, if he tried.

Once he got to the opening right in front of Lakeshore High, he was met by clumps of children all over that was off about what Ian was usually met with. Two girls ran by, their khaki skirts barely flailing as they ran past, and Ian guessed they’d be a great guide to understand what could possibly going on.

The biggest group gathered around to the side of the gigantic building, looking up with their phones and cameras up in salute. Ian followed the general direction and almost gripped on his breaks too hard.

There was a boy in a grey track suit, standing on the edge of a balcony. Ian squinted his eyes, trying to get a clear view of the boy’s face, maybe read as best he could on what could possibly be going through his mind. Failing in his intentions, he dropped his bike, ready to run up as soon as possible. Ian would look later on in his decision to bring the clothes with him, but as of now, he was climbing flight after flight of stairs, heading to the floor where all this commotion was taking place.

He barreled through the glass doors, his heart racing from both the run and the boy standing so shaken on the ledge. He wove his way through the crowd, which was very eager. With all the excitement that filled the air, all Ian felt was death. He certainly didn’t want to feel this.

His voice caught in his throat. What could he say? What could he possibly do? He looked to the clothes in his hands, trying to find the answer somewhere in his duties.

The picture by the name caught his eye, and he spoke in an instant. “Edward Mason?”

It fell silent as the boy looked back. It was him, for sure. His hair was matted to his sweaty forehead and his eyes were purple from bruising and bloodshot from crying.

Ian held the hung clothes in his hands. “I’m here to drop off you’re dry cleaning!” He spoke so confidently, as if that freshly ironed blazer held all of the world’s problems in its delicate stitching. He watched the lack of expression on Edward’s face with a smile. “That’ll be $12.50.” There were snickers behind him that he didn’t realize at the time.

Edward shook his head slowly. “Just don’t…don’t worry about it.” Every word seemed to drain him just a bit more.

“Nah, but I have to worry about it, man. I need to get paid and you need to get your uniform.” He was jumping now, trying his hardest not to show the fear coursing through him.

He breathed out a laugh. “School doesn’t matter.”

“Actually, high school is-“

“This isn’t high school. This is hell,” Edward corrected, turning back and looking down.

Ian finally looked behind him and scanned the growing crowd, still feigning confusion. And he finally let himself ask what he dreaded. “Are…are you-“

“This is what they wanted. M4 may have started it, but the whole school agreed. They’re ready to end this and so am I.”

“M4? What’s that?”

Edward gave a look of bewilderment back to Ian before shaking it off. It didn’t matter if Ian didn’t understand. Nothing mattered to Edward Mason right now.

And that flashbulb memory went by in Ian Gallagher’s head one frame at a time; as he caught the twitch in Edward’s foot; as the plastic covered uniform fell from his slack grip; as Edward stepped forward; and as Ian ran to the ledge just in time to grab by the collar of Edwards grey hoodie. He won’t allow himself to remember anything but the fact that he saved Edward Mason at that moment.

* * *

 

4 Days Later

Naomi Mather was soon to be Naomi Milkovich within a few short months. There were so many reasons why she didn’t care about this event that was going to happen. One: she had a school to run as the head administrator. Two: it was a business agreement and nothing else. Three: with the upheaval that her soon-to-be-step-son had caused, she couldn’t possibly think about anything else.

Amongst the many papers sitting on her desk, there was a picture of the red head hanging on with a strong arm to the helpless and completely pathetic boy that seemed to have lost consciousness over the balcony of the high school- _her_ high school.

And in the background, she could hear the familiar blaring stories on the news about the uproar these two boys had caused with their viral video on the internet. She barely remembers a time when she wasn’t surrounded by technology like computers and cell phones and such, but she prays for that time, regardless.

She’s stopped mid-writing to turn off the television as another slander has been brought down on her and her family’s prestigious establishment. It’s one thing to see reviews by people who couldn’t possibly matter, but when it was on the news, it was serious business. So she turns off the television and fully gives the situation her attention, staring at the red head.

“This boy has started quite the ruckus,” she mumbles in the harsh politeness she’s grown up with. Her employee stands before her desk, hands folded in front of him as he waits for instructions in some way, shape, or form.

“You can’t blame him for the power of social media,” he states clearly. They’ve worked together for so long, she considers him a close enough friend- which is saying much.

“Yeah, but I’m not allowed to blame the actual person responsible for this, am I?” She sighs before turning to the picture that’s been hung on the wall to her right, of her new family. At first glance, they’re clean, the epitome of perfection if she’s ever seen it. But she eyes _him_ , the blond runt that somehow seems to manage to make the most chaos. Mickey was a major con in her decision to go along with the business agreement, but she kept hearing in her ear how he was a senior and would be out of her hair for the majority, as far as everyone was concerned.

They were all ghastly, to say the least, disguising as something civil with their Aryan features, but Mickey just _had_ to stand out among them all. Maybe she could do something about both issues at hand, the one that she has to blame and the one she wants to blame.

“You know they’re calling this kid ‘Superman’?” She laughs icily before turning back to her friend. “Biggest corporation in the world, and the media can’t come up with a more original name?”

He nods, allowing her to speak as she usually does.

She sighs again, looking from the picture of Ian Gallagher and back to her “son” Mickey Milkovich. “Find out where Ian Gallagher lives,” she decides with a firm voice. “We need to resolve this issue: make him a student at Lakeshore High.”

* * *

 None of the Milkovich siblings couldn’t believe the news, really. Whatever uproar Mickey had created, it was nothing different from hearing about starving children in Africa or the many wars going on in Iraq- none of it seemed to come back to him, and the students around them moved on accordingly.

But that didn’t stop him from seeing the video. Over and over again.

What was that feeling? What was it that made his heart fall from its safe place in his chest? What was it that twisted his stomach into knots that couldn’t possibly come untangled? He watched the video as the boy (he found out his name was Edward Mason. Not Jimmy or Johnny or Louis) walked off the balcony, and in the short frame between where he was really falling to when the red head stepped up to save him, he felt something he couldn’t identify.

But that red head really was Superman. Sure he saved Edward, but he also saved _Mickey_ ; saved Mickey from whatever horrid feeling it was that pained him so. He saved Mickey from buckling to his knees. So Mickey was able to get back up.

And he still loved the power.


	2. Workin' On My Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superman? He didn’t even really like Superman. He was more of a Spiderman type of guy. Nonetheless, after that day, we was constantly hearing murmurs, questioning if that red head was really the guy everyone was called Superman. And he was used to flying under the radar, but now he got constant stares and glares and confusing glances. He was ready to jump out of his skin, because it seemed that the very thing that got him so famous was his own kryptonite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to change it a bit from the original Drama, y'know, OTHER than the obvious changes. But that's kinda hard, so if it's a bit ooc or very...dramatic...just remember this is a Korean Drama AU

The way Ian moved, the way he acted, anyone would think the first word he was able to utter was “work”. That’s what he was constantly doing: work, work, work. And he shared his older sister’s beliefs that it should be honest work- _while_ he took his brother’s ideas and found jobs that could be a bit demoralizing. There was dry-cleaning, grocery- stocking, exotic dancer- but he’d argue grocery-stocking was his own personal hell, really.

Point of the matter was that all these jobs were usually pretty tame, and he didn’t get much noise or attention and got paid (except the dancing job- the old guys seemed to _love_ him). This was all true until that unfortunate day that he’d reached out to keep Edward Mason from jumping to his death. No, he didn’t regret saving him; he only regretted where they were at the time, and that the kids at the school seemed to forget their human decency enough to just record where it went viral.

Superman? He didn’t even really like Superman. He was more of a Spiderman type of guy. Nonetheless, after that day, we was constantly hearing murmurs, questioning if that red head was really the guy everyone was called Superman. And he was used to flying under the radar, but now he got constant stares and glares and confusing glances. He was ready to jump out of his skin, because it seemed that the very thing that got him so famous was his own kryptonite.

Saturday night, Ian was roaming around his house, weaving through siblings and neighbors, getting ready for his job at the gay club. He was so focused on moving, constantly moving, that he didn’t notice when he was the only one at this point. Fiona, the eldest sister, had stood before the staircase, blocking Ian’s way, as she looked at the tower of a man with the overtly fancy suit on.

“Ian Gallagher?” the man bellowed in polite fashion.

Fiona finally let him pass as she grabbed his arm and held on. Her grip was tight, ready to pull Ian back at any moment and become the protective pseudo mom she had the unfortunate responsibility of undertaking.

“Yeah? Who’s asking?” He wasn’t in any trouble, as far as he knew. Well, sure, he was underage working at a strip club, but who really investigated into that kind of shit?

The man bowed slightly. “I’m here with Lakeshore High. You were recently there on a dry-clean run.”

Lip spoke up, reminding Ian that his whole family was actually there. “If anyone is pressin’ charges-“

“That’s not the case. I assure you.” He gave a gentle smile and another slight bow towards his older brother. “We were actually coming to tell you we would be honoured to have you as a fellow student of our establishment. We’ve checked into your grades-“

“How’d you do that?” Ian was already striking to turn this whole thing down.

“Lakeshore High has a lot of high connections. Finding a high school student attending a public school on the south side of Chicago is not a difficult task.” Ian wanted to know how this man could sound so earnest with no real expression. “Moreover, you’re grades are up to par, and there are merits with comments from your past teachers claiming your work ethic is astounding. We believe you would do well at our school.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Fiona chimed in. “But we don’t have that kind of money, really. Hell we can barely afford all the expenses his current school entails.”

“We’re more than willing to give Mr. Gallagher a full-ride scholarship, with a uniform for each day of the school week and a lunch card.” This guy had answers to everything, and somehow it made Ian’s blood boil by the second.

“Wow, really?” Fiona expressed awe and shock. “That would be too good to be true.”

“A fuckin’ miracle,” Lip agreed behind him.

“Yeah,” Ian sighed. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not really interested in attend-“

“ _What?_ ” Ian saw Fiona to not be having any of this as she raised an eyebrow to her mental brother. “He’s going. This is wonderful. Thank you.”

“No, I’m not, Fi. I’m already a junior. What’s the point in switching out now?”

“Uh, being able to go to a great college, for one?”

“Mm, it’s true,” the man concurred. “We have a connection to many universities in state as well as out, including Northwestern, University of Wisconsin-Madison, Yale, Princeton-“

“You hear that? You could go to _Princeton_.” Fiona looked back and urged Lip to back her up. He was right there to comply.

“Yeah, Ian. You’re dying of getting out of here. And the way you work, you can totally get away worry-free. You should at least think about it.”

Ian looked between his oldest siblings, standing firm as the parental figures that they’ve taken on. Ian was up there with them, but why did he feel like such a child?

With a long sigh, Ian spoke. “I gotta get to work. I’ll consider it.”

But of course, he knew what his answer would be.

And he was thankful that the polite man hadn’t waited around until 2 am to hear Ian’s answer when het go home. Surprisingly, no one seemed to have waited up for Ian, much to his relief.

In fact, he should have known something suspicious was going on when no one tried to mention it on Sunday morning when he woke up, or when he lounged around the house until work at the supermarket.

It wasn’t until he heard a familiar wailing on Monday morning. He opened his eyes to see Liam running back into their room after having climbed the stairs like it was Mount Everest.

Ian spoke, his voice still groggy with sleep. “Liam, what’s up?”

“L-lim…lim-lim…Limo!” His baby brother breathed heavily as he pointed towards their open door and tried to climb his way up into bed with Ian.

He sat up, curious as to what Liam was talking about. “Limo?” He peered out of his window to see a real life black Limousine double parked outside of his house.

“What the fff…” he trailed off, remembering the little boy standing beside him in bed. He rolled his eyes before covering Liam’s ears. “Lip!!!” he exclaimed. “Why’s there a limousine blocking up the street?!?”

“Maybe if you checked your dresser you’d fuckin’ figure it out!” He heard Lip yell back.  

Ian obeyed and found a freshly pressed navy blue blazer with the familiar hand stitching and khaki pants and white button down.

He didn’t even remember Liam at this point. “Are you fucking crazy?!?” he yelled as he scrambled out of his bed, now fully alert.

“No, but you are!” Debbie screamed as she poked her head out of her door. “Yelling this early in the morning. Keep it down!”

Ian sighed as he ran down the stairs to find Fiona making breakfast as usual. She gave him an innocent smile as she buttered toast.

“Fiona, what the-“

“I don’t wanna hear it. I know you probably have some issues with the school or the kids-“

“So you understand!”

“But Ian, that doesn’t stop it from being a great school that’s pretty much guaranteeing you a free ticket to college, a good-paying career, and out of this shit hole.”

“But, Fi, there are other ways.”

“Yeah. There are. And it’s a hell of a lot of struggle.” She looked up to him now, her face completely sincere. “You’ve been working hard enough, and you’re only 17 years old. Give yourself this. Please.” When she saw her brother waiver, she continued her task. “And besides, how bad can they be? You’ve been around hood rats for most of your life. You can handle the rich fuckers, right?” She gave another hopeful smile and didn’t wait for his answer. “Great. So get ready. Don’t wanna keep your driver waiting.”

Ian contemplated on whether he should fight it anymore, but seeing his sister rushing under pressure, he groaned and started heading back up the stairs. “Hope this limo shit isn’t a daily thing,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, and I hope it is!”

* * *

 

How was it possible that the campus seemed larger now that he was expected to navigate its very grounds? That shouldn’t have been a thing.

Here Ian was, looking over his back because he swore he just came from that direction…or maybe it was that one, to his left…maybe it was behind him?

Ian barely registered the slight bump he caused, only until he turned back.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he apologized.

The girl looked at him with no real expression, just observing. She had blond waves and a blue bandana, a rather tame look compared to the nose ring in her right nostril and the pursed thin, lips. When she didn’t answer, just continuing to stare, he thought maybe he should continue talking. Luckily, something caught his eye. “Uh, nice camera. Are you a photographer?” No answer. “This is quite beautiful scenery. I haven’t been to the garden yet, but I’m sure it’s a prime area to capture some moments.” He nodded with a smile. In response, she raised a blond eyebrow. A certain realization caught on.

“Oh, did I ruin your shot? I’m sorry, really. I’m just really confused. It’s my first day and I don’t really know how to get to the multipurpose room?” He eyed her clearly expensive and casual attire. “Uh, do you go here? Can you point me to where that is?”

She raised the camera, and snapping a picture of the dazed red head in front of her with a small shutter. She finally pulled a smile (minded, it was half of a smile, but a smile all the same) pointing to the left of here, which was Ian’s front.

He gave a sigh of relief as he was able to escape this awkward situation. “Thanks.” And he was on his way, not daring to look back.

With a few clear instructions, he was able to find his locker and dispose of his book bag with only a few notebooks, a pencil, and a folder. He’d yet to get his books, which was informed he’d be given in class. So he was studying his map again as he tried to find where the Chemistry room could be in this grand building.

His lack of attention made him late to realize that the halls are pretty much cleared. Checking a nearby clock, first period didn’t start for another ten minutes- but maybe they were in class anyways.

He started down the stairs to the entrance and saw that the students had gathered near the door. Struck by a burning curiosity, he followed to see what the students could’ve possibly been looking at.

The doors had opened and in walked four kids- 3 guys and one girl.

He recognized the girl instantly as the one he bumped into not ten minutes prior. She faced forward as she walked further into the door. He took the time to check out the guys with her. There was one with blond hair similar to the girl’s but his hair was much curlier, and there was a guy with a fresh cut. Then there was the boy the same height as the girl. His hair was slicked back, and even though they all seemed to have those pure blue eyes, he seemed to resemble the girl the most. They must’ve been siblings, Ian assumed.

“Hey, Mickey,” a boy called out in the front of the line. All four stopped and Ian stopped himself from smirking. Was this real? Who were these people? What in the fucking world was this?

The smallest boy turned to glare down the boy that just called out for him. He gave a dangerous smirk as he headed for the boy. Ian, against his better judgment, stretched his neck to watch the encounter. He saw the blond named Mickey snatch a bottle from the boy’s hand. It looked like a smoothie of some sort, maybe a breakfast one. And without a single word or even a blink, Mickey continued to twist off the tip and pour its contents on the boy’s shirt. Ian just watched, jaw slack. Seriously, was any of this real?

Mickey had taken his original position after giving the empty bottle back to the boy and continued on walking. He was sure the girl had caught his eye, but only for a brief moment, before they were walking off.

The crowd finally dispersed and let out a heavy breath. What world had he just come out of? Or what world had he just entered?

He heard murmurs of “Are you ok?” and things of the sort as the boy that was randomly violated nodded his head vehemently.

“What in the fuckin’ world? Who the hell are they?” Ian asked aloud when he was sure he couldn’t draw any attention. Apparently, he was wrong.

“Oh my god,” a squeaky condescending tone of a voice said. He turned the vague direction and found a girl with long blond curls, perfectly styled into an elegant braid and her skin practically flawless. She raised an eyebrow to him. “You don’t know who they are?”

Obviously, not. “No.”

She scoffed. “That’s M4; the four Milkovich kids.” She rolled her eyes as if that answer should have been obvious.

But, oh. M4. That’s what Edward was talking about; that M4 started this, whatever “this” was. But then that meant they were the reason he almost killed himself.

“So, what, are they like a gang or something?”

The girl gave him crude laughter. “You _must_ be new here. And living under a rock.” She held out her manicured hand. “I’m Karen Jackson. And you are?”

He took it hesitantly, not sure what kind of bitch he was talking to. “Uh, Ian. Ian Gallagher.”

There seemed to have been some type of affect on her just a minute later when something clicked. “Oh wait! You’re Superman? The guy that pulled that loser from killing himself?”

Ian flinched at how nonchalant and indifferent her words were, like he just picked up some eggs at the store. He nodded.

“Well, I’ll let this slide since you’re new here. But don’t even bother trying to mess with M4. They’re not in a gang, but they’re dad is a lot more power that. Also, just don’t waste your time. Mandy wouldn’t give you the time of day even if you were the last guy on earth.”

Mandy must have been the girl, the one that took his picture and eyed him like he was some new species she was trying to understand.

He shrugged, looking back to where they walked off. “Whatever. They’re just people.”

“Ok. Tell yourself that. It’s your funeral. No one’s gonna be there to help either.”

Ian rolled his eyes. He was about to give a comment when the warning bell rang. “Hey, do you know where the Chemistry class is?”

Karen had started walking up the stairs. “Um, what did I just say? You’re on your own. Let’s see how well Superman manages.”

Ian watched as she sauntered up the stairs. Seriously, what melodrama had he just been sucked into?

* * *

 

Mickey rolled up the sleeves to his black button down as he fell onto the couch. For some reason, he chose today to go to his classes with the other students, and by the middle of first period, he remembered why he didn’t do that. Safe to say, he’d be kickin’ it with his personal tutor and playing video games until the guy showed up.

Mandy sat in the chair next to the couch and crossed her legs, assuming her perfected bitch pose. Mickey glanced over before rolling his eyes. “What’s up your ass already? Morning isn’t even over yet?”

“I could say the same,” she piped up with ease, letting her foot swing as she admired her new wedge heels. “That was a perfectly good strawberry-banana smoothie you poured down that guy’s shirt.”

Mickey only shrugged, picking up a comic book from the coffee table. “Ass had it comin’. Heard he was talkin’ shit.”

“And who’d you hear that from?”

Mickey, unable to answer, pointedly began to show much interest in the comic book he’s probably read a thousand times over now. “Yeah, I thought so,” she sighed.

“Why the fuck do you care anyways?”

“Don’t.” She went back to looking at her shoes. “I heard there’s a new charity-case enrolled.”

Mickey finally ended his façade. “Really?”

“Yeah. Not sure who it is, though. You might wanna do some digging.” She peaked through her lashes to see the wheels already turning in her brother’s head. She rolled her eyes. “Try not to go to the extreme with this one, will ya? Naomi’s pissed about what happened with that Edward guy.”

“I didn’t put him on that ledge,” Mickey mumbled, almost not getting the sentence out without his voice fading. He didn’t understand that, and it only added to his frustration. He huffed out a breath. “Whatever. But I wanna find this new kid. Give him a proper welcome, y’know?”

He smiled as he picked up the comic book again. He loved meeting the new students. More people, more control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still diggin' it? It's a bit of a slow burn- in the show and in the story.


	3. Fighting!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only, Mickey relayed the cake back into her face, totally disregarding the message that came along with it and silently yet obviously thinking “Fuck you and your cake”. Ian was sure he couldn’t be so aghast about the actions of Mickey Milkovich, but he still hung his jaw open.  
> He still stared at the girl that began to cry (Ian was sure she was crying even though her face was covered in icing) so he didn’t notice that someone stood before him.  
> “You’re in our way,” Mickey said coolly, with eyes of boredom. When Ian didn’t move or say a word, he straightened his head. “Or, do you have something to say?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the people showing their love so far haha. I still highly encourage watching the actual show. If you wanna know the best place to watch, I can tell ya.

To Ian’s dismay, the whole school greeting M4 by the door was a daily routine, maybe even on a religious level. He’d decided he didn’t want to be a part of the crowd, subtly eyeing them as they passed by in a succession of small glances. This was all utterly absurd, and Ian couldn’t believe this kind of thing existed.

When he’d gotten home after his first day, he decided to do some research with his younger sister, Debbie, on their new laptop that they’d “found”. So, here’s what he knew so far:

They were the children of Terrance Milkovich, the head runner of Milkovich Corporations, an international empire of a company. They owned gas stations and oil plants, big time market chains, law firms, and just others of the like. But even though this was the case, most business done by Milkovich Co. was done in foreign countries, where the rules weren’t so strict on empires and actually having one. Korea seemed to be the biggest factor.

The oldest child was Iggy Milkovich (Ian cringed at someone actually being named “Iggy” because why and what the fuck?). He was the one that had the close cut. According to the wonderful internet, he had some affiliations with organizations that have become respected (the way it was described, they almost seemed like gangs). Then there was Collin Milkovich, the one with the curly hair. Collin seemed to have some artistic abilities when it came to construction; he was great at design and building. It said he was in line to work for the head of some major architectural businesses, but it’s all hearsay at the moment. There was Mandy, who was the youngest, and fitting the title of a prodigy. She’s mastered orchestral performance, knowing how to play piano, harp, violin, cello, and other instruments of the sort. She’s actually a junior, like Ian, which he didn’t notice since he hasn’t seen her in any classes.

And then there was Mickey, who seemed to get the much hoopla out of the group. Somehow, being the middle child, he managed to become the leader of M4, and his father has even admitted in an interview or two that Mickey has the best corporal and leadership skills that can take him above and beyond once he’s graduated college. It’s said that he’ll inherit the title of CEO of Milkovich Co.

“Holy shit,” Ian mumbled as he rested his chin on Debbie’s shoulder and stared at the screen. “How much is that business even worth.”

“Don’t try to imagine; you might hurt yourself.” She wiggled her shoulder. “Get up. I’m gonna take a shower before Carl gets home and screws up everything.”

When she finally ran up the stairs, Ian settled fully in front of the screen. He went back to the Google search and clicked on images. What a mistake that was.

Honestly, people with shitty personalities shouldn’t allow to be hot, or maybe Ian was mad that he allowed himself to find Mickey so attractive. The asshole seemed to feed of the power he got, and it was nothing if just one massive deal-breaker, Mickey’s hamartia.

So Ian only allowed quick glances because if he let himself get trapped into the allure of their appearance, he’d find Mickey’s personality something he could tolerate.

A girl had stepped forward, blocking their way as they walked into the school. She held out a small cake, her head bent down out of shyness as she spoke.

“I made this for you guys. It took me a while to bake, but it was totally worth it.”

Ian feared his eyes might get stuck from how hard he rolled them, because three days later and he still couldn’t believe this was a thing that was happening. They were people, not celebrities.

Mickey took the cake, eyeing back and forth between it and the girl who made it. There were squeals and gasp around her as she smiled brightly at her triumph.

Only, Mickey relayed the cake back into her face, totally disregarding the message that came along with it and silently yet obviously thinking “Fuck you and your cake”. Ian was sure he couldn’t be so aghast about the actions of Mickey Milkovich, but he still hung his jaw open.

He still stared at the girl that began to cry (Ian was sure she was crying even though her face was covered in icing) so he didn’t notice that someone stood before him.

“You’re in our way,” Mickey said coolly, with eyes of boredom. When Ian didn’t move or say a word, he straightened his head. “Or, do you have something to say?”

Ian glanced over at Mandy, who had her head turned to the side in the similar face of boredom as her brother. The lack of anyone that _cared_ gave him a lot to say.

He could have said that yeah, he understood they may have had gourmet chefs and bakers that made things for them and all that, but that girl probably had a hard time and they could at least show a _little_ human decency and accept the damn present! But no… “Nah.”

“Ok…so move.”

Ian took in a deep breath before stepping aside, watching them walk by. He was sure he saw a smile creep on Mandy’s lips as she passed by- and that was _definitely_ a smirk.

By lunch time, he was drained of the day’s activities, so he wasn’t really up for the screaming and people running to greet M4 as the sauntered down the stairs to the lunch room. According to someone running by, they usually didn’t come down here.

“Mind if I sit with you?” he heard an unfamiliar girl’s voice ask. He rose his head from his gourmet lunch to find a girl with short wavy hair and warm brown eyes.

Surprised that there was someone at this school that wasn’t off to chase after people, he nodded a bit vigorously. “Sure, go ahead. I’m Ian,” he greeted and held out his hand.

She was obviously like the rest when it came to being well off, if the looks of her soft, delicate hands didn’t give her away. “I’m Miranda.” After she sat down, she leaned forward. “So, you’re Superman, then?” After he nodded she gave a small giggle. “You’re a lot cuter than Clark Kent.”

He gave her a kind smile, internally hoping he was gonna have to turn her down at some point. “Thanks. Your face is oddly symmetrical- that was supposed to be a compliment!”

“I took it as such, I promise.” She sighed and sat back in her seat. Ian noticed he was the only one eating.

“Did you not get a lunch?”

“I left my money at home this morning. I was running a bit late.”

“Ah, man I wish my sister would let me run late for once-“ as sudden thought came to mind. He leaned forward to talk lowly. “Hey, does this school have a limo service or something? I’ve been getting one every morning.”

Somehow, Miranda found that funny. “Most of us have personal drivers that work for us. I think they tow the limo service out when the low income kids live too far away. There aren’t many of those here…” she trailed off and scrunched her forehead. “Are you…low income?”

Oh, Ian so wished this wouldn’t factor the one friend he actually made at this school. “Yeah. I got here on a full-ride. And I live on the south side.”

Miranda only nodded, her round lips rolling together. “Mm, cool. You must be pretty special then.”

Ian gave a slight nod, not really believing those words. To feel the silence, he offered her some of her food, which she happily took, and all was right after that.

In fact, Miranda had found him after school, telling him about a vendor that was handing out ice cream cones for free. Ignoring the cool fall air, they rushed over, Ian getting plain vanilla and Miranda getting cookies & cream.

They walked along the field on the side of the building on the ledge of a platform garden. In that moment he didn’t think about the agony of going to school there, or the fact that the majority of his classmates had questionable morals. It was just him eating his ice cream and Miranda walking backwards and as she smiled at him behind her ice cream.

He wasn’t sure how, but he didn’t catch her off-step, meaning he couldn’t catch her as she fell off the ledge, landing face first with her palms out. He was about to jump off before he saw who stood in front of her.

Miranda looked up to see the owner of the shoe she just lost her ice cream over, to find it was Mickey Milkovich. And he stood there, just watching as the colour left her round cheeks and she stumbled to sit back on her knees.

“I’m so, so, so sorry. Do you want me to clean it up? Or I could buy you a new pair.” Ian stood in his place, staring in awe at the girl he was sure was different. Well, maybe it was fear.

“Do you have more money than me?” Mickey asked, his hands in his pockets as he looked down at the quickly sticky shoe. They were black boots along the style of combat. When he received no answer, he hitched his eyebrows in response, still impatiently waiting.

“N-no,” she squeaked.

“These were custom made, with my initials engraved into the heel and sewn to the lip.” He waited to see if she understood what he was saying. Finding no such luck, he dumbed it down for her. “So you couldn’t possibly buy me another pair, could you? Being a klutz sure is a bitch, right?” The malice that seeped into his tone was off putting and stealthy.

Miranda shook her head, flustered and all. “I’m so sorry. I promise, I’ll do anything just-“

“Anything?” Mickey asked, a spark lit on his face. Oh, Ian didn’t have to know Mickey Milkovich to know that spelled trouble. When Miranda nodded, Mickey lifted his leg. “Lick it.”

“Huh?”

“My shoe. Like. It.”

This is where Ian finally got his senses back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He asked as he jumped off the ledge and walked over to the scene. He grabbed Miranda’s arm and made sure not to yank as hard as he wanted.

Mickey eyed him up and down, a similar observant expression his sister had. “What are you?”

“I’m the guy that got enrolled here because of you- thanks for that, by the way. I’m feeling really welcomed here.” He pasted on an obviously fake smile.

“What?”

“Edward Mason? They enrolled me here after that shit that went down. And somehow we’re back to lack of human decency. Where are you morals, man? Or do they not have those in the upper-class 1%? Like, you had to trade out _something_ for all that money, right?” Mickey continued to look with confusion. “She apologized, didn’t she? And fervently so.”

“If we relied on apologies, there’d be no laws, no government.”

“Yeah, well at least we wouldn’t have assholes like you.”

Mickey laughed. “Sorry, did you forget who you’re talking to? People who ain’t got shit, can’t talk shit, right? Charity cases are supposed to be thankful. You’ve had the privilege of meeting me. You’re welcome.” He stood at ease, his hands still in his pockets, and it all just did more to boil Ian over.

“I’m still her friend. I’m not gonna let you walk over her with your ‘custom made’ shoes.” He pulled Miranda behind him, making the point of keeping her out of harm’s way.

“You’re her friend, her protector?” When he got a nod in response, he glanced down at his shoe with a smile. “Then you lick it, then.”

It was almost as if the asshole hadn’t heard a word Ian said. It was absurd. “Huh?”

Mickey rolled his eyes, done with trying look polite. “It’s not a hard demand to comprehend. Lick. The fucking. Shoe.”

With his jaw slack, he began to go to his knees. This guy was un-fucking-believable. Just as he had with Edward’s dry-cleaning, he made a rash decision, remembering the ice cream cone in his hand. And with a quick stance, he shoved the vanilla ice cream up Mickey’s face, barely missing his hair. And with the force of Ian’s shove, Mickey fell backwards, falling to the ground.

He pushed Miranda forward, to walk away quickly before he remembered something else. “Oh,” he said as he turned back to the stunned blond still on the ground with vanilla ice cream melting and dripping from his chin, “saliva isn’t a proper tool for getting out stains. I should know, I work at a dry-cleaners.” He quickly pulled out a deck of business cards he promised his boss he’d hand out and flicked it to land on Mickey’s lap. “When you’re ready to get your nasty-ass attitude cleaned and ready, go see them.” And with his point across, he and Miranda were walking off the other direction.

Sure, one kid had been pushed to the extreme, but Ian believed he could handle a lot given all he’s been brought up to deal with. So whatever it was that gave Miranda so much fear, he could handle it. He had to.

* * *

 

The Milkovich siblings liked to have people in their school campus lounge after school. Students agreed it was a great place to hang out and had the selectiveness of any well off club: you had to be someone special to be invited in.

Today was no different. Iggy and Collin were at the pool table, showing off their mad skills and flirting it up with some girls they invited over, Mandy was off at the bar with her friend, checking out some new music from a new Korean pop group her dad met with, and Mickey was at the board, throwing darts. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, really, except Collin noticed the glare Mickey seemed to be giving the board. When he walked over, he noticed the target in the bull’s eye turned to a business card.

“Jan Di’s Dry Cleaning Service?” Collin read the card. “What you got against a dry cleaning service?”

“It’s that piece of trash that works there,” Mickey grumbled as he collected his darts, only two had caught the bull’s eye. “The new kid, Ian Gallagher.”

“The one that saved Edward Mason?” Collin made an airy sound of understanding. “Shit, Naomi was pissed at that.”

“Well she enrolled the asshole, and he doesn’t seem to wanna cooperate.” He threw the dart, hitting the right corner of the card.

Collin smiled, again, out of understanding. “So you gonna make him?” He nodded to himself as he saw his little brother throw another dart. “You’re gonna bring out the big guns, spy on him a bit and make him crumple to your will.”

Mickey paused and smiled at his brother. “Collin you know me so well.” He shouldered his brother before tossing the last few.

“Of course. Happy hunting, bro.” And he went back to his game with an easy, understanding smile.

Mickey walked to the board, taking out the darts and the card as well. He’d make Ian Gallagher understand. Mickey Milkovich was and will always be the one in control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I was gonna combine this chapter with that one I'm gonna write next, with the ways Mickey's does shitty things to torment Ian, but it's 4 in the morning haha


	4. That All You Got?!?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wow, he was so upset he went home,” Mandy exclaimed with sarcasm seeping from her words. She looked up as Mickey turned to glare at her. “Good job, big brother. Maybe I should put my money with him leaving in 3 days like Collin.” She gently placed the violin in its case closed it, grabbing it as she stood up. “The tutor’s gonna be here in 30 minutes. I’m gonna go out and play for a while.”  
> “We don’t care,” Mickey groaned as she passed him by, walking up the cursed staircase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finished episode one and go into the first 20 minutes of episode 2. Haha, enjoy.

Mickey was oh so kind enough to start his acts of terror on Monday morning, giving Ian a stress free weekend to forget that he went to a school he couldn’t possibly fit in at.

And it wasn’t like they didn’t know he existed. They made that painstakingly clear on Monday morning as every eye turned to him as he made the long and treacherous journey to his locker. He glanced back at the silent hall, curious as to what he could have possibly done now?

He opened his locker, the crimson post hanging from the top shelf. There was a silver skull and crossbones with the elegant and simple M4 right underneath. He heard the murmurs behind him, and maybe the fear that laced his body was radiating off the danger the students had.

“Class 3 got the M4 note for Ian Gallagher!” he heard someone exclaim…with glee? Ian had more questions than concern:

How did this whole thing work? Was he now the target of the whole school, or just his grade, or just his homeroom class? When did the torture start? Was there any way that he could somehow come out on top of this? Was this a battle of win or lose? Were there rules?

Ian snatched the note from his locker. If there were any rules, or any way that this was an actual battle, he wanted to give a clear sign that he was ready. He wasn’t big into violence, but he knew how to defend himself perfectly well.

He slammed the locker door, turning to see that the hall had went back to half-way decency, and headed off to his homeroom.

Once there, he was greeted by all eyes on him, following his every move. Ian knew how this game worked; he just needed to keep his head high, to show no fear- honestly, the only thing he felt was second hand embarrassment. How could this possibly be a thing that’s happening?

“See anything missing?” Karen asked, her words icy and full of interest. When Ian gave her no type of contact, she continued on with her nuisance. “Man, I wonder where your desk is.”

He rolled his eyes, trying to find somewhere to look beyond those green eyes. His eyes landed to the center of the class, where his notebook was, his name almost hidden under the graffiti and other defacing messages. He bumped pass Karen, going to get the notebook. As he bent down to retrieve it, the notebook slid further from him. That’s when he noticed the most subtle hint of a line that was connected; Ian followed the line for as long as he could before it disappeared before his eyes and walked forward, his notebook now trailing behind him as he followed the string.

The string hadn’t ended, but the notebook and Ian stopped in front of his desk in the foyer where more graffiti and defacing messages laid scribbled all over. Not a minute later, he was completely surrounded, his homeroom classmates coming from every corner, some even standing on the railings of the stairs.

He took in the faces around him and chuckled. “This is very clever, guys. Really, you should get a Nobel Prize for this-“

An egg interrupted him. Well, more like an egg being _thrown_ at him was what cut him off. All he could do was stare at the shell that stuck to the yolk on his arm before another was being thrown his way. And not a moment later, they were coming from different directions, the sound of them breaking being swallowed by the whoops and hollers of his classmates as they had their immature fun. Ian wasn’t sure what they thought at this moment, or how long this was supposed to last, but he was gracious enough to let them have their fun, for they couldn’t possibly know any better. It was the utmost evident that Mickey Milkovich had the population of this school tied around his middle finger and they wrapped around it with pride, because it was Mickey Fucking Milkovich.

“Is that all ya’ll got?” There was a bit of shock in some faces as he inquired, but they weren’t done, it seemed. “Keep goin’. Have at it.”

They kindly obeyed, pouring flour over his head and making him paler than usual. They could do all they want. He wouldn’t quit this fight until he won and Mickey knew that for sure.

* * *

 Iggy and Collin watched the video as it happened in that moment, going back from looking at the humiliation done to Ian and the bouts of laughter their little brother got from watching. But it was confusing. Had they been watching the same thing Mickey was?

The boy they saw on the screen looked undeterred by the semantics cast upon him by M4’s finest and greatest. And they all knew nothing was scarier than a person that simply didn’t care, someone who could look evil in the eye and laugh. That was Ian Gallagher, looking at his classmates with pity. So, what in the world was Mickey watching?

“You’ve really outdone yourself, Mick,” Iggy sighed in compliment. “It’s the first day and you’re already makin’ the stakes high.” He glanced over at Collin, giving him a knowing look in which Collin shrugged.

“He may look fine now, but I don’t think he’ll last long,” Collin mumbled. “No one really knows how the game works until they’ve played, y’know?” He turned back to the screen. “I give him three days.”

Despite the display before him, he couldn’t argue with what they’ve observed from their brother before. He sighed again and nodded. “I give him a week.”

Mickey finally contained himself before he answered. “And I give him five seconds. You can’t be fooled by the exterior. I mean,” he pointed back to Mandy, who was tightening and loosening the stings on her violin, “Exhibit A.” Iggy and Collin nodded in agreement before Mickey turned to the staircase. He’s been here before; some kids are just too easy to break, poor, pathetic and fragile. “5…4…3…2…1!”

To Mickey’s surprised, the stairs were as empty as before, producing no flour and egg covered ginger. He heard the snickers from his brothers and tried to play it off. “Maybe I just counted too early. He should be coming down for sure.” He squared his shoulders, bore down on the staircase as if he could make Ian appear from his mind. “5….4….” he took a breath, passing the seconds to give Ian enough time.

“…3…” There were no sounds of anyone approaching yet.

“…2…” Not a sound

“…and a half…”

The number stayed on his tongue, hanging on for dear life.

“…1…”

And there was still no body there.

It was complete and utter bullshit.

Mickey ignored the chuckles of his brothers and snatched up his cell phone, calling the guy he told to record the big moment. He answered the phone by half of the first ring. “Yeah…where did he go?...Home?” They could faintly hear the person still talking as Mickey hung up.

“Wow, he was so upset he went home,” Mandy exclaimed with sarcasm seeping from her words. She looked up as Mickey turned to glare at her. “Good job, big brother. Maybe I should put my money with him leaving in 3 days like Collin.” She gently placed the violin in its case closed it, grabbing it as she stood up. “The tutor’s gonna be here in 30 minutes. I’m gonna go out and play for a while.”

“We don’t care,” Mickey groaned as she passed him by, walking up the cursed staircase.

* * *

 “What a fuckin’ waste,” Ian grumbled as he tried in a futile attempt to sweep the egg matted flour from his blazer. “All this flour and eggs, ugh! Do they even know how many pancakes they could make with all this?” He rolled his eyes and leaned forward to the concrete corner, taking in the sights of trees and buildings that he could assume were all a part of the school’s campus.

“You know how to make pancakes?” he heard a girl ask.

He saw Mandy walking up the stairs, coming out of hiding with her violin case in tow. When Ian didn’t answer, she asked again. “Pancakes? Do you know to make ‘em?”

Ian nodded, confused, as this was the first time they ever really talked. “With eggs, flour, milk, sugar, salt, and butter.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t know how. Every time I tried to sit and watch the chef make something, someone was always telling me to go play until it was done. I’ll try it…”

Ian nodded, still feeling the awkwardness of hearing her speak. In all honestly, from the way her brother acted, he more than half expected her to sound like Karen but 10 times worst. There was no malice, nothing sharp about her words, just unabashed curiosity.

Mandy took in the sight of Ian covered in the doings of her immature brother and the crazy students. She rested her case on the ledge and quickly drew out a handkerchief, which she used to promptly wipe at the flower on his arm and chest; it was a half-way decent try, heading for the face and barely making a dent in the powder stuck to his face. She huffed after seeing he’d need more work and handed him the handkerchief, deciding maybe she should take her practice elsewhere.

“Th-thank you,” Ian sputtered out.

“No, thank you: now I have to go practice somewhere else.” She gave a hard smile before going inside.

Ian watched her leave, the overall since of embarrassment and confusion. What could this handkerchief possibly mean? Was Mandy on Mickey’s side, or Ian’s? If there was anything he could understand about Mandy at the very moment, it was that she, too, wasn’t at all accepting of her brother’s attitude. The plans foiled out that week would be completely pointless.

And what a week it was.

Somehow, Mickey had gotten a hold of Ian’s schedule for when he trained and worked out. Along with finding Ian’s transcript grades, they found that he was also in the ROTC and quickly rising in ranks. Even though they didn’t have an ROTC at their oh so grand high school, they had a fast track for students with outstanding fitness, along with the Presidential Fitness Award. The school needed a reason to give him the scholarship, and they chose to go that route, meaning he’d have a workout regimen and schedule as long as he was student at Lakeshore High.

Anyways, Mickey had gotten a hold of his schedule and the few days held small acts that were nothing more than the Butterfly Affect, screwing everything up on a larger scale. On Thursday, he went to the pool as he was supposed to after school, ready to get in his three hours of water exercise. He wouldn’t deny that going to the pool was his favorite out of the whole regimen. Their pool was grand, probably around the same length as a football field and with much depth. He always walked out with a pep in step.

But today he walked in, the sight he almost couldn’t believe.

Trash.

Everywhere.

“Mickey,” he growled, his jaw clenching after he finally picked it up from the floor. He steadied his breathing, trying so hard to find a bright side from the annoying boy’s pestering. Well, he could still get the work out in, just in a different way.

* * *

 “Is he seriously fishing out the garbage?” Mickey asked himself as he watched in awe as the red head swam around, picking up plastic cups and bags and such. “Is he even real?”

“He’s probably thinking the same thing about you,” Mandy chimed in as she sat at the bar with a milkshake she just made. “You couldn’t have put something more pleasant in there? Like, ducks?”

Mickey ignored Mandy’s suggestion, still wondering how Ian could be so calm. “Maybe I need to add a scare factor,” Mickey thought aloud. He’s been going to soft on the boy, Mickey decided. Ian Gallagher needed to be shaken up.

* * *

 Thanks to Mickey, he got in an extra thirty minutes of exercising in for throwing all said trash into an actual can.  The skylight ceiling showed the night, fall sky, and Ian would be rather surprised if there was anyone at school at this time.

He was almost ready to leave, buttoning up his shirt with care given his slight damn skin, when he heard the rustle of movement on the carpeted floor. Not a few seconds later he was greeted with three dark figures, hiding in the unlit hall leading to where he stood.

Fight or flight kicked in instantaneously, and he was calculating the average builds, the heights, the probability of him being able to out run them. He could take them, he decided. But he was preparing for a fight, and when they failed to act first, he stood there, making him a vulnerable target. The closest figure drew out a hand and grabbed onto Ian before yanking him forward, and the instinct kicked back into high gear as he fought and struggled. At some point he finally got loose and headed for the door before they were on him again, dragging him down to the ground. He could see their faces, found them familiar and felt rage boil in his muscles as he kicked and shook.

He could hear the clamor of heels on the tile and felt the boys above him freeze as Mandy appeared, her arms folded and her expression completely done. Were these boys here because of her?

“Did Mickey put you guys up to this?” Her voice was certain. The boys nodded and she leant down, only looking at Ian.

“So I tried making those pancakes earlier, but they didn’t rise.”

Temporarily dazed, Ian squeaked, “Huh?”

“You have to have missed something because the pancakes didn’t rise. And did you know there’s a box mix?”

Ian shook, trying to remind her of his current situation. “Uh, can you…?”

Mandy sighed and looked at the three boys. “You guys can go now.” And they scurried off without hesitation. “So now, what did you miss?”

Ian sat up, going over what he told her earlier that week. “Uh, baking powder…I think.”

Mandy thought on the two words before she lit up. “Ah, that makes sense. Baking powder. Pfft, duh!” She stood back up and turned to the door. “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” he called out. Mandy always showed up when he needed some type of help, and though she seemed off put by it all, she had to care just a little bit.

“No need to thank me. I wasn’t trying to save you. But I’ve grown quite bored of my brother’s games.” She trailed off, looking over Ian’s body over her shoulder. She gave the same half smile he saw the first day of school. “But it seems like he found a different contender; makes it just a tiny bit more interesting.” And left the room, and Ian thought he almost caught a slight sway in her hips he never picked up on before.

Ian couldn’t help but think of the week’s events as he sat at home, shoveling food into his face. Was he seriously any different from the others Mickey has bullied? Was he the one to stand up against him?

“Debs,” Fiona said as she sat down next to Ian at the table in the kitchen. “Put the laptop away when we’re eating. And Ian-“ she smacked her brother’s shoulder as she watched him stuff his face with chicken, “slow down! The chicken’s gonna be there when you’re done chewing, Jesus. Are you even paying attention?”

Ian took another big bite dramatically in Fiona’s face who only shook her head chuckled before going back to reprimanding Debbie.

“Someone at your school is pregnant,” Debbie stated, never taking her eyes off the screen.

“Whose school?” Fiona asked as she put food on her plate.

Lip leaned over and looked over Debbie’s shoulder while Carl looked over the other. “Ian’s.” They said at the same time.

“Why is this big news?” Fiona asked, looking over at Ian for an answer. “He was still trying to chew all the food in his mouth, so he just shrugged.

“The top 1% doesn’t have teen pregnancies like this,” Lip explained. He kept reading the screen. “Oh wait…the father goes to the school, not the girl.”

Fiona laughed. “Some douche bag got a girl pregnant? Do you know ‘em?”

Again Ian only shrugged, not really interested with getting in the drama of his school.

“It doesn’t give a name, but it’s someone from Class 3. Isn’t that your homeroom, Ian?”

Ian finally swallowed and nodded, already in trying to rack his brain for all the possible guys. But the truth was that he didn’t know any of the guys well enough to know who could possibly be the stupid asshole. “I have no idea who it is, though.”

“Make sure you find out tomorrow,” Carl said. Ian scrunched his eyes to the idea that even his own little brother cared.

But he’d forgotten the request the next day, and he wouldn’t have been reminded until he walked into school with all eyes on him. But that wasn’t unusual by this point. This was the week of torment for Ian Gallagher, so he was ready for whatever came his way.

Karen Jackson stopped dead in his path as he walked up the stairs, her arms folded and her head held impressively high. Her glossed lips were pursed as she showed him her phone with no explanation. The message read:

 _Turns out the baby daddy is Ian Gallagher_.

“What?” He didn’t even why he looked for Karen for an explanation, but the damage was done. “What is this?”

She only rolled her eyes. “White trash, I swear. You’re all so stupid, quite daft, actually.” She shrugged and bumped pass him. “I just hope, for her sake, you’re gonna stick around to continue the line of White Trash with a bit of respect.”

It was too early in the morning for this shit, really. But there was no right time to complete slander the Gallagher family with one blow. There was no right time to go into class and find writings on the bored saying “I heard the mom is his sister” and “How did his filthy ass get in here?” and others of the like.

“Maybe he should just leave,” he heard someone whisper. He followed the sound of the voice and found what he thought was a friendly face.

“Seriously, Miranda? You too?” He couldn’t help how helpless his voice sounded. She’d been doing good so far, staying out of the week or terror, but comforting after a long day of Mickey’s bullshit.

She had apology in her eyes, perfectly round and brown like a puppy’s. “I’m sorry, Ian, really. It’s just-“

“You have to know this isn’t true. It’d be so convenient-“ he stopped himself. What was the reason for trying to explain? It was all useless. He understood that if people wanted him gone, they’d believe any reason presented to them to hate him. He’d just have to go to the source…right after erasing the board.

* * *

 The best part was that Mickey wasn’t even waiting. Somehow, he wasn’t expecting the rumor he started to be what set Ian off. But, maybe those poor people only had one thing to hold onto: their pride.

“Mickey!” he heard Ian bellowed his name like a sharp knife as he stomped down the stairs into their lounge.

Mickey sat up in his seat and watched as the red head appeared, his skin a deep red, almost like his hair.

“You came. Welcome,” he greeted with ease. “You’ve come to apologize, I assume.”

Even with eyes of fury, Ian still managed to look shocked. “Apologize? For what, exactly?”

But it had to be obvious. “For thinking you could reach me, of course. You, a lowly commoner, thinking you could at any point ever rise above me, the most powerful thing here.”

“I came here to tell you that I’m tired of your bullshit. It ends here.”

“Oh, it could most definitely end here.” Mickey smiled with achievement. “You know what you have to do.”

“Fuck you!” Ian turned up his nose in disgust.

Mickey’s smile fell. He was sure he’d been polite about everything. He even went easy on the poor bastard- or so he thought. He stood quickly, the fighting words hitting his core. “The fuck you just say?” he may have been shorter than Ian, but he was still strong, and he wasn’t afraid to back down from a fight when he had to.

But the intimidation didn’t ring to Ian. “I said, Fuck. You.” The words were almost a snarl, and they tapped at Mickey’s patience.

“You still don’t get it, do you? You have nothing here to help you. Get it through that thick skull of yours.”

Ian stepped forward, towering over Mickey completely. “And you don’t seem to get it, either.” He started backing up, his eyes still murderous. Mickey took in his position. “I can’t take this anymore.”

And before Mickey could answer, he felt the breath knock out of him, the swift kick to his chest making him practically fly back; he slid back into the chair, the friction of the floor making him stop short of the edge of the sofa.

Ian walked, finally minding Mickey and his siblings before turning back to Mickey.

“Have you seen me?!? I’ve never kissed a girl, let alone sleep with one!” He took a heavy breath or two, still reeling from anger before he shouted. “I’m gay!”

Mickey tried to sit up a bit, trying to collect his bearings as Ian continued forward. “I won’t try to act innocent,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “But anything I do, it’s sure as hell not with a girl.” The last word was sharp out of his mouth, and Mickey may have flinched just a bit. “I’ve been called filthy, daft, white trash, all in an hour’s time…but I think they’ve got the wrong person, don’t you?” He smiled, the evil still on full display in his features as he finally walked off, walking back up the stairs.

He heard the laughs through the ringing in his ears, and his eyes went to Mandy first and instantly. He knew about her helping Ian out (though he hadn’t planned for the guys to go as far as to scare Ian shitless, but nonetheless) and he couldn’t help but cringe at Mandy possibly being there for Ian as she had. And there she sat, smiling at the staircase as if Ian was still there. When she finally looked back at Mickey, she winked.

Nothing was in order; everything was off and Mickey scrambled to understand. As he stood up, dragging the chair along to sit back down, he finally found the answer, and laughed.

By the end of the day, Mickey was still laughing at the realization he made. Iggy and Collin had went back to their semi-regular places back at the pool table, playing a lazy game as they looked over at their brother.

“Why the hell is he all giggly?” Iggy asked.

Collin shrugged after his turn. “Maybe he has another plan in store?”

Iggy contemplated before remembering their earlier bet. “Hey, man. It’s been a week. Pay up.”

“We never even agreed on a payment,” Collin whined.

“Let’s just go for the usual, then. Hand over the $200.” He laughed as Collin lulled his head as he pulled out his wallet, taking out two notes. It was a measly amount, but nothing was wrong with being $200 richer. “Hey…doesn’t Ian kinda remind you of someone?”

Collin leaned on his pole. “Yeah, actually, I was thinking about that a few times. But, who is it…?”

They both stood there, mirroring each other’s poses as they thought long and hard. The light bulb seemed to click for them at once and they looked to each other.

“Valerie!” They both exclaimed.

Mickey snapped to them. “What about Valerie?”

“Ian…he’s like the guy version of her,” Iggy explained.

Mickey scoffed at the accusation. “Please, don’t compare that homely punk to our sister.” Valerie Ashford was their step-sister, the sole daughter from Terry’s first marriage with Diana Ashford. Even though Valerie grew up living with her mother, she was fond of her younger step siblings, and there were no hostile feelings to keep any of them apart. She was closest to Mickey, they all found, being something of a mother figure to the still rather young boy after their mom had died. Mickey and Mandy seemed to be the ones that couldn’t bear it the most, and she gave them the warmth and love that their father was unable to provide. Mickey always looked up to his big sister.

“Ah, and whether Ian’s like her or not, you’d know best, right?” Collin teased. He wiggled his brows and Mickey sank into his seat at what he was implying.

They all knew Mickey was gay, and they sort of guessed at some point in the middle of all Mickey’s madness-set scheming that he may have been doing this to intentionally get under the ginger’s skin. Of course, no one said it explicitly, but he saw the looks. “Shut up,” he mumbled, looking away from their assuming blue eyes.

“So, why were you laughing just a moment ago, then?” Iggy asked, his earlier thought coming back.

Mickey smiled again. “Well, you guys are smart, right? Can, _read_ between the lines, if you will?”

“What?” Collin quirked his head.

Mickey sighed and let his head fall back. “That guy…no matter how I think about it, I always come up with the realization that he likes me.”

Mandy turned back at the statement, completely stunned at her own brother’s thought-process. “What?” Mickey nodded. “How the hell did you come up with that?” Iggy and Collin nodded in agreement at the question.

Mickey scoffed. “C’mon guys, you all got eyes and ears, right? Why explicitly state that he was gay, comin’ in here actin’ all bent outta shape? Why would he want _me_ to know so clearly?” He signed in contentment. “And the whole ‘not innocent’ thing?” Mickey added. 

Collin nodded slowly, thinking it through. “Ok, yeah, I can follow that logic…but also, if he wanted you to know so badly…does that mean that he knows?”

Mickey shrugged, still happy with himself. “Maybe, or he might be going of suspicion. But either way, Mickey Milkovich’s charisma has yet to fail me, and that’s all that really matters.”

Iggy chuckled and shook his with Collin right behind to go as they were.

Mandy still stared at her brother. “You may be gay, but you’re still a dumbass of a boy,” she muttered to herself before going back as she was with her laptop.

Mickey took in another deep breath at his understanding that everything was right in the world. But now he had to change his whole game plan.

What to do with Ian Gallagher now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the future, I'll try to write out each chapter an episode a piece, because so much happens in one episode it's insane.  
> Thanks for all the support, as usual!


	5. This Isn't a Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or maybe if Ian stopped lying to himself for a minute, he’d admit that it was that he liked how Mickey looked in his own clothes. In their massive field, Ian played kickball with his class while Mickey’s class played basketball. And though the blond was shorter than average height, it didn’t affect his basketball skills. He wore a black sweater vest over a gray hoodie with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black soccer pants rolled half way up his sculpted calves; he couldn’t let himself admit that he liked Mickey’s legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If ya never heard of the Water Tower, it's a little bit like a downtown mall of sorts. Not really sure else how to describe it. Kevin Oroscoe is based of a real person. aaaaand I hope you enjoy ^_^

 

Monday

 _I’m sorry, Ian_.

Ian almost jumped at the recording. Closing the door to his locker, he was met with a fury bear covering Miranda’s face. When she finally lowered the bear, she look up to him with her round eyes, puppy dog style. Man, and Ian had thought he had that face down pact. He rolled his eyes in the frustration of falling for that face.

Miranda smiled triumphantly, seeing Ian succumb to her apology, and handed him the bear. “I was a coward for not coming to help you. I know that. I truly am sorry.”

“It’s whatever. I settled things with Mickey on Friday and things sho-“

“Settled?” she question incredulously. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Is it not a word that the upper class knows…?”

“No, I mean, how?” She rolled over to lean against his locker door properly. “No one ever ‘settles’ with Mickey or anyone of the Milkovich siblings, to be honest. What could you have possibly done?”

Ian shrugged. “I told him I wasn’t gonna deal with his shit and kicked him in the chest…” he trailed over at her doll eyes widening if that was even possible. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m talking to a dead man; that’s what’s wrong.” She shook her head before giving him a look of pity and fear. “Ian you can’t just… _threaten_ Mickey and not expect any consequences. I mean, you’ve met the guy; does he look like someone that backs down easily?” Her eyes wandered frantically as she began to think aloud. “Man, has anyone even really _laid hands_ on Mickey Milkovich? He’s been goin’ pretty soft…”

And honestly, Ian wish everyone would quit with this ‘going soft’ nonsense they seem to have deluded themselves into thinking. Since when was starting a rumor that could ground his pride into dust was ‘going soft’?

“Ian, I fear for your safety even more so than before,” Miranda stated, standing straight.  “I’m not gonna beat around the bush, but you saw what happened to Edward. He was ready to _jump off a balcony_ for this crap. And all he did was be poor.”

Ian closed his eyes, letting the full weight of her warning weigh heavily on his chest. Holy crap, what had he done?

He continued to keep his guard, subtly being on guard to make sure nothing sketchy was around him at any point. Had he seriously gotten himself into so much heat? Seriously? What had Miranda said about Edward? _All he did was be poor…_

Ian _had_ to be in some deep shit.

He headed up the stairs, giving another attentive glance over before heading up the campus stairs. He met with five men dressed in suits and black shades as though it wasn’t a cloudy cast-over day. Ian stood in fear of what he hoped wouldn’t come next.

“Are you Ian Gallagher?”

He could lie. “Yes. Who’s asking?”

“We’re gonna need you to come with us.”

Again, Ian could lie. “Ah, right. But see, I have to get to my part time job, so…”

The man that spoke before signed minutely. “Mr. Gallagher, it would be much easier if you were to follow us nicely.”

They stood there, watching each other for what felt like hours as Ian thought between obeying and running…obeying…or…running…

He dropped his bag in an instant, and stretched his legs as he ran down the stairs, not looking back as to get as much distance between himself and the potential CIA agents following him.

The path that came so haphazardly in Ian’s vision is all he saw, ignoring the worried and frightened students he flew by. He only faintly head charging footsteps behind him before he couldn’t hear them all together as he turned a corner and hid behind a trail of bushes. He took a chance after a minute or two and found they finally stopped, making signals with their hands and nodding before splitting up, covering more ground trying to find his ass for Lord knows what. He knew he couldn’t possibly find solace in these flimsy bushels growing from the ground, and began to make his way to what he believed was a secluded area near the back of the school.

Once he made it as he slid across the brick walls, he sighed, sure they’d ended their chicken chase with him. Only, his path was blocked by a black SUV and the doors opened as he was shoved inside from behind while his collar was yanked violently in front of him.

They couldn’t have possibly believed the fight ended their as Ian swung elbows, fists, legs and his own slender body to knock they guys away and make his escape. Of course, they’d thought of this possibility, so Ian was the one to be surprised as the napkin covered his nose and before the smell could hit him, his consciousness was failing.

* * *

Ian was numb, but he could smell his surroundings, and it made him want to delve back into sleep it was so fresh. It was quiet and calm, there was light on his face and he could finally feel the comfortable warm, the soft caressing his skin. He turned his head and took in another deep breath. Gosh, was he in heaven.

“Mr. Gallagher?” he heard a soft voice call to him. “Mr. Gallagher, are you awake?”

The soft caressing his skin became all too much and his eyes snapped open slowly, like cement weighed them down. He took in his surroundings, the well lit room and the lady that stood right beside him with a smile. Oh, he’d been kidnapped.

Ian sprung up, making the girl jerk back with wide eyes. “Where am I?” he asked, suddenly remembering the run he’d gone on before. He rubbed at his eyes, still feeling dizzy and sated and…calm. “What the fu-where the hell am I?” he demanded.

The girl bit at her lip, concerned. “Uh, we have some clothes picked out for you.”

 _Clothes?_ He looked down at the soft comforters he was buried in and realized he could feel it all over.

He was naked.

Save for his boxers.

Ian opened his mouth; to scream or to shout or to calmly ask what the fuck he was doing there, he wasn’t sure.

“Mr. Gallagher,” a soothing male voice called to him from the other side of the room by the door. “It would be best to put on some clothes before asking anything else. Maybe the preparation can ease you just a bit before we explain anything.” He gave a smile that seemed all too familiar, and it pissed him off more.

But he caught sight of the girls standing at the end of his bed with hangers of outfits next to them. He slid out of the comfy bed, his feet meeting the cold tiled floor and walking over to the small girls before him. Because he wanted to be done with this place, he picked the simplest outfit hung: a black button down with dark-wash jeans and what looked to be just another ordinary pair of black lace up sneakers, but upon seeing the girl who refused to let him put on any of the damn clothing on his own opened the shoes for him to step in, he saw the name Dior Homme printed into the sole. He guessed they were designer and it only further his speculations of where he was and it didn’t calm him or ‘ease’ him in anyway.

Once he was done and his hair had been slicked back unlike how he usually wore it naturally with the long strands that still remained to fall to the side, the well dressed man guided him out the room and down a spacious hall. They passed an open window that lead out to a balcony that could clearly see the skyline, so they were still in Chicago.

“Uh, can I ask my questions now?”

“Anything, Mr. Gallagher,” he responded.

“Oh, it’s just Ian, actually.” Being spoken to so formally was just a little bit of uncomfortable.

He nodded. “What is your question, Mr. Gallagher?”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Where are we going? Where am I?”

“I’m fetching you for you to meet with the young master of the house.”

It was almost as if the man knew what Ian wanted to hear. “Right, and exactly who is that?”

The man stopped and turned to Ian with a simple smile that still irked Ian because _where had he seen that smile before?_

And it occurred to Ian that they had met the end of the hall, to the left it curved into another hall leading into an abyss he couldn’t possibly be ready for. And on the other side, there were double doors that lead to a room. The man opened them, revealing what Ian guessed they would call a living room, but it was grand in every sorts of the word; from the massive rug with intricate design and tapestry to the chandelier that hung low above the center of the room- and that’s as far as Ian could look without his head spinning. Also, there was the fact that he found what he feared most at the moment.

Mickey stood there with his usual suit on, though he lost the jacket and had his vest open and his shirt loosely tucked into his seemingly casual slacks. How the fuck could slacks be casual?

“Mickey,” Ian sighed, seemingly tired again all at once. He didn’t necessarily feel fear rather than just weariness. How long would this last? Was Mickey’s tactic to tire out his prey like a cat with a mouse under its scrutinizing eyes?

“You don’t look so happy to see me.” Mickey pouted just a bit in mock disappointment.

Ian heard the doors close behind him and now he was in an empty room with Mickey Fucking Milkovich. “Mickey,” he sighed again. He couldn’t believe he had to explain this to what society would label a grown man. His sister was one thing, but this…”you can’t just _kidnap_ people.” Mickey gave him a blank expression, so Ian went into depth. “Th-that’s what you just did, in case you weren’t aware.”

Mickey scoffed. “Hardly. You were pampered and shit, not harmed.

Ian rubbed at his face, trying to decide if he should spend his time trying to get the very simple concept of _kidnapping_ through Mickey’s head or not. It was ridiculous, he almost wanted to laugh. Almost.

Mickey gave an appreciative glance over Ian’s appearance and shrugged. “Expensive things suit you nicely.” And before Ian could even think of a retort, Mickey changed the subject. “Ok, so here’s the deal: I’m gonna allow you to talk to us outside of school, and come down to our lounge after school. Mandy is a bit picky, but I think she tolerated you enough.”

Ian stared, dumbfounded at the blonde’s easy expression. “…what?”

“Yeah, man. I understand why you’ve been acting all-“

“I’m just gonna cut you off there,” interrupted Ian, afraid of whatever Mickey thought he _knew_. “Whatever you think you know is probably…the complete opposite of what’s true.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, dawning on the easy persona that didn’t fit him at all. “You don’t have to deny it. I bought the clothes, the shoes, so you don’t have to try and-“

“You bought all of this shit? For _me_?” Ian wasn’t sure what type of flattery mixed with irritation and anger this was, but it wasn’t pleasant. “There are, like, 3 or 4 other guys living in this house.” Ian so desperately wanted Mickey to understand.

“Well I’m not gonna take their stuff. Besides, it’s just a few clothes.” Mickey just really, _really_ wanted Ian to understand. He stepped closer, rolling his eyes as Ian tried to take that defensive stance, and yanked at his arm till they stood in front of a mirror that hung on the wall. “See?” and he watched Ian take in their figures together as Mickey did, and he wouldn’t deny that together they didn’t look so bad. “Even with a little money, an ugly duckling can turn into a heron.”

“It was a swan,” Ian corrected before snatching his arm from Mickey’s touch. He turned and glared at the blond boy. “And who asked for you to do this, anyways?”

“Ok, drummer boy, just admit it already. No one’s around.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He was dazed and swimming in an endless sea and he was drowning.

“That you like me, you can just say it.” Mickey shrugged at the simple order.

Ian searched for something in those blue eyes to realize Mickey was joking. He _had_ to be joking, right? “You’re crazy, right?” Ian nodded frantically, going with that explanation. “Of course you are. The madness is so evident, how could none of us have seen it before?” He chuckled a bit. “All that grease you put in your hair, it must have been absorbed into your brain, got you all muddled up in there, huh?”

Mickey let him walk past, a bit awestruck by that obvious rejection. When he came to his senses, he made his way to block Ian.

Ian’s head fell to the side, tired weighing on him heavily. “Move…while I’m being nice.”

“You’re the crazy one. You know how much money I spent on that outfit alone? Close to $2,000.”

Ian straightened and his green eyes expanded. Mickey liked looking at them. “What? $2,000?”

Mickey shrugged. “I know it’s chump change for me, but I’m guessing for you…” he left the statement opened, taking Ian’s expression as understanding. “So, the thing is, if you hang around with me, you might realize that $2,000 isn’t that much. And you say you don’t want that? I’m the crazy one here, really, Gallagher?”

Ian smiled as he stepped closer. The room was empty, but he didn’t want the space around them to hear the words he’d utter. “The thought of you makes my skin crawl…all over.” With a fallen face before him, he proceeded to get his message across as he held his wrist up, showing the gold watch that was set for him to go with the outfit; he promptly unsnapped it and threw it to the ground. He began to unbutton his shirt and once the last button was undone, he remembered.

“Get me my uniform,” he snarled, “now!”

“You must be someone who believes money can’t buy friendship,” Mickey guessed as Ian headed towards the doors. For once, Mickey was spot on. “But can you confidently tell me of something that money can’t buy?”

Ian stopped in his foot tracks and turned, reading Mickey’s face one of pure interest and of confidence. The confidence never left- and maybe rightly so since Ian couldn’t think of anything.

“When you find something, tell me.”

Mickey let Ian leave the room with ease now, only to let the words that ached settle in his memory.

* * *

The front door was a lot harder to find, and Ian spent a good twenty minutes wandering around the main floor of the mansion in order to find it. Once he found a door that seemed to lead to the outside world, he walked out to find Mandy walking up the stairs.

“You again?” she asked as she looked up at the disheveled red head.

“I was just going home,” Ian tried to explain, his face heating up at whatever Mandy could’ve thought of this situation.

“Well, you don’t have to go so suddenly, goodness. You’re makin’ yourself seem really suspicious.” She gave a smile to present herself as friendly, and Ian realized he hasn’t really seen her smile before. Ian followed as she went back down the steps and walked around to a garden that was not so subtly hidden far on the side of the grand house. She sat down on a concrete bench and he did so as well. “So, what happened?”

For some reason, he didn’t want to go into specifics, maybe to stop from exposing Mickey from the odd things he does. “A, uh, situation popped up.”

She laughed at the vague answer. “I always run into you when there’s some dramatic shit happening.”

Ian chuckled at how true that statement was. They lapsed in silence before his earlier resentment towards himself came up. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

Ian smiled. “There isn’t anything in the world that money can’t buy, is there?” He watched Mandy squint her eyes in thought. It was a hard question. “There isn’t, is there?” The thought of Mickey being right tired him.

“Air.”

Ian didn’t understand at first, but seeing the confidence on her face reminded him. “Oh…air! Of course-ugh, crap! How come I didn’t think of that?” It was such a simple thing, really.

Mandy smiled at him. “You’re interesting, Ian Gallagher.” She got up, ending their meeting. So Ian stood up as well. “You should probably hurry home. Don’t wanna get caught looking out of place in this neighborhood.”

Ian retreated, glancing over down the sidewalk as he walked to the nearest train station to watch Mandy enter her home where she’d find Mickey in whatever state he’d be in.

He stood at the steps of the train, relaying what he could remember of the day’s events when he remembered the weight in his blazer pocket, the handkerchief that he cleaned that he meant to give back to Mandy. He’ll just try tomorrow.

But when he tried to find her afterschool the next day, she was nowhere to be found. He checked the places he’d found her before, the staircase, and checked the garden and the pool for extra measure. His last resort was their lounge, and that’s where he found that none of the Milkovich siblings were.

He heard footsteps as he walked back, ready to head up the stairs only to find Colin and Iggy there, surprised to find Ian there.

“Ian?” Iggy asked. “Mickey’s sworn enemy?”

He wasn’t expecting this scenario and wasn’t really sure how to act. “Uh, I just came to give this back to Mandy.” He presented the handkerchief with her initials sewn into the corner.

Collin took the handkerchief before nodding. “We’ll make sure to give it back to her.” When Ian made a move to walk past them and up the stairs, he held his hand out. “Hey, wait. Do you wanna stay for a minute?”

Iggy agreed. “You must have a lot of questions about us, and we have to repay you somehow.”

“Repay?”

They further explained. “Mickey’s targets don’t usually put up such a fight, and you’ve been the main source of entertainment as far as Mickey goes in a while.”

So they sat on the sofa while Ian sat in a chair, and still Ian wasn’t sure what to make of the oldest siblings of M4, but they seemed harmless enough. And he was torn: should he ask questions about their little brother and seem overtly interested, or try to think of questions on the spot about Mandy and seem overtly interested in her.

“Oh, hey look Iggy!” Collin exclaimed as he pointed behind Ian to the television that was on. Ian turned and saw someone he looked up to for years, Kevin Oroscoe. He was a famous model and cellist, and Ian had somehow grown to be obsessed with the guy and the many wonderful things he did to help others.

“That’s Kevin Oroscoe,” Ian mumbled aloud.

“Yeah. Mandy must be excited to see him.”

“Mandy knows him? Are they friends?”

Iggy and Collin laughed. “Friends?” they said simultaneously. Collin leaned forward. “We’ve known him since we were about 4 or 5. He was just a friend to _us_. But when our mom died, Mandy grew really sad, even depressed, and Kevin was the only guy that could pull her out of despair. We’re still not sure how he did it, but to Mandy, Kevin’s a friend, a boyfriend, and probably even her first love.”

“Is that how she got into playing the violin?”

“I think they fed off each other,” Collin said and looked to Iggy for agreement. “Kevin was all about the bands and performing for others while Mandy did it for solace and herself. They were like yin and yang- they still are.”

Ian knew Kevin had been on tour for a while, and maybe the hostile Mandy he’d met now was because the yin to her yang was far away. And she seemed to loosen up- because she knew he was coming home again.

So that explained Mandy as far as Ian was concerned.

So what the hell was Mickey’s deal?

* * *

It was a gym day on Wednesday, and Ian found himself irritated once again.

It wasn’t enough that M4 refused to wear their school uniform, but the gym uniform, too?

Or maybe if Ian stopped lying to himself for a minute, he’d admit that it was that he liked how Mickey looked in his own clothes. In their massive field, Ian played kickball with his class while Mickey’s class played basketball. And though the blond was shorter than average height, it didn’t affect his basketball skills. He wore a black sweater vest over a gray hoodie with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black soccer pants rolled half way up his sculpted calves; he couldn’t let himself admit that he liked Mickey’s legs.

“Hey, Ian!” He looked to where the voice came and only met the ball that hit him square in the face, making him fall back to the grass. Weren’t they playing kickball?

He was quickly crowded, Karen in her too small, fitted gym sweater bending forward the closest with her blond curls hanging gracefully. She gave a wicked smile.

“Shame,” she mocked concern before she tsked. “You should’ve been paying attention.”

He finally came to his senses, feeling something fall from his nose and quickly covered it, finding it to be blood.

“Nice shot,” he heard someone compliment. And another exclaimed, “Double nose bleed!” Apparently, his classmates hated him even when there wasn’t a target over his head.

* * *

Mickey hadn’t seen the whole thing, but he saw when Ian had gotten up with his hand barely covering the blood that fell from his nose. And his eyes followed as the red head made his way inside the school, probably to the bathroom.

Ian was standing over the sink, running his fingers under the water to wash the blood from his hands. Mickey hesitated, not sure if he should intrude after that declaration Ian made so painstakingly clear. But either way, he wanted to get back in the relatively good graces he was with before.

Mickey inched forward, handkerchief from his wallet in hand, and held it to the red head’s face. When Ian jerked, he finally spoke. “Don’t move.”

Ian turned to the familiar voice and glared, pushing Mickey’s hand away.

“Don’t be mad at me; you’re the one that let yourself get hit in the face by a ball.”

“Do you _know_ how ridiculously stupid you sound? Ever?” Ian finally faced him finally, and Mickey regretted his words. “And what’s it to you anyways?”

“Is that how you talk to someone who actually tries to help you?” Mickey didn’t have any other way of speaking, it seemed. And he just really wished Ian understood that.

“Yeah, and who asked for your help, huh? Do you not get that even if we were the last two people on earth, I still wouldn’t accept your help?” Ian didn’t wait for an answer as he barreled past Mickey, bumping his shoulder.

Mickey hated this feeling, like something was weighing heavily on his chest- to the point where the words were blurted out. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Ian stopped at the question, fully intrigued in what Mickey was saying.

“How can you hate me, Mickey Milkovich, so much?” He raised a finger, ready to list off his great qualities. “I’m good-looking, I’m smart, I’m rich…what is there to hate?”

Ian shook his head, and Mickey fully saw the pity in those green eyes, in that faint smile. “You still don’t get it, do you? I dislike everything about you! The way you look, the way you walk, the way you slick your hair back with all that grease, I hate everything!”

Mickey had to say something to not show what his face could have possibly shown. “Are you h-“

“I’m not done,” Ian interrupted sternly. “It’s such an eyesore to see how you guys don’t have enough regards for the school system that you can’t even wear the fucking school uniform! I think it’s pretty decent and I used to go to a school that didn’t even have a dress code. And the way you pick on the poor- oh, wait, I mean ‘charity cases’- with your red card bullshit. And your thoughtlessness- that’s the worst!” He was breathing heavily, obviously not the only one with a heavy chest.

“You…”Mickey trailed off, not understanding anything of this foreign affair in front of him. Somehow, in the last two weeks, he’s spent an unimaginable amount of time thinking about this one guy to the point where he actually _cared_ about he thought…this has never happened before.

“All in all,” Ian stated, his voice low and exact, “I hate everything about you, Mickey Milkovich.” Again, Ian left Mickey alone with only his words to resonate around him and seep into his being.

He needed to kick something, to punch something, to throw something-

He found his reflection in the mirror, his face had grown red and his nose flared, his lips red from biting.

 _All in all, I hate everything about you, Mickey Milkovich_. The words were on automatic repeat as he studied his reflection. It didn’t make any sense. Mickey _couldn’t_ make sense of it…he couldn’t.

He told himself he didn’t care, but he was still thinking about it as he changed back into his clothes…not the uniform. The halls were quiet as he headed back to his private tutoring room. There were two guards that were hanging up a sign that caught Mickey’s attention:

Europe College Trip

Sophomore and Junior Class

October 5-October 13

$5,000

Mickey was a senior, but he was sure the school would make an exception for M4. He smiled, maybe he could have another chance at redemption.

* * *

“What the fuck, Ian?” Fiona exclaimed as she talked to Ian’s backside.

He groaned as he straightened up, placed the cans on the shelf before turning to his sister. “You couldn’t have waited till I got home to talk about this?”

“Oh yeah, like you’d just sit patiently to talk about this.” She rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “Ian, you have to go to this trip. It’s so great!”

“Fi, do you really think I’m trying to go to school out of Chicago, let alone America?”

Fiona shrugged as he continued to stack cans. “Well, no. Come to think of it, I’m not really sure what your plans are. And that worries me. At least I know Lip plans to be a waste of Southside brilliancy.” She stopped for a second. “Both of you guys are so capable, y’know? And don’t think of it as a college trip. Think of it as a Europe trip. You get to go to Germany, France, Italy, Poland.”

“Fi, it’s $5,000 the school’s not gonna give me and you can’t waste. We need that for the winter. Besides, I work full time for that week and help out where I couldn’t before.”

“What do you mean ‘where you couldn’t before’? You’ve been pulling your weight for this family greatly…maybe even a little bit more-“

“I’m already attending the school,” Ian said. “Let me decide this on my own, ok?” When she gave a noncommittal noise, he smiled. “Maybe we can go Orland Square or downtown or something while I’m off.”

Fiona sighed at the face Ian gave her, so hopeful and innocent- how was he even still making that face. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Great! Now lemme get back to work. I have to finish this whole aisle before I leave.”

* * *

The rest of week leading up to the trip left Mickey a bundle of nerves and chills. Iggy and Collin could work as chaperones, while Mickey was supposed to look over Mandy.

But Mickey hadn’t even realized when Mandy had wandered off, his pacing itching at Iggy and Collin’s patience.

“Could you stop quit with the pacing before you wear the floor out?” Collin said. “What’s got you so nervous, anyways?”

Mickey scoffed. “Nothing.” What if Ian wasn’t coming? But he had to, didn’t he?

“Where did Mandy go?” Iggy asked, trying to get Mickey’s attention with an important matter and failing. “Mick, if you want, you can just take your private jet.”

Mickey shook his head. “Nah, it’s a ‘school trip’. Therefore, it would hinder my experience if I went without my classmates, right Mandy?” He looked around for Mandy, finding her nowhere in sight. “Where’d she go?”

Iggy shrugged. “Maybe she went along with the class ‘cause it’s time to go.” He made a show of tapping his watch.

Mickey gave one last look to the escalators before he followed behind, hoping Gallagher would appear. But no such luck.

* * *

Mandy watched her classmates head toward their terminal, jumping in her place as she waited at the line where many people waited. She was sure this was the day. It had to be.

Not long after, she saw him walking towards her, his bags in tow and his casual dress still making him look more expensive and valuable than anything she’s ever seen. It took all her willpower just to smile as he smiled at her than to run to him.

“Kevin!” some girls yelled, running past Mandy as the invisible crowd populated around her boyfriend.

But she was used to this; this is why he was away for so long, of course.

So she dutifully waited for the crowd to disperse and she was able to walk into his waiting arms. Seeing him there, being able to touch him and be engulfed in his warm welcome, she felt all the worry lift off her shoulders, and she’d dare to cry because it’s been so long.

“Hey, Mands,” he whispered into her hair. “How’ve you been?”

“Great! Let’s go!” She grabbed his free hand, entwining their fingers as they walked on. She glanced at a picture of him for H&M that was posted on a wall. “I hate this picture,” she teased, pointing to it.

* * *

Mickey saw Mandy give a hug to Kevin from the plane window. “Kevin’s back?” he mumbled, more to himself since it was a passing thought. Was Gallagher seriously not coming?

His phone rang and he answered. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry sir,” the stewardess apologized, “but I have to ask you to turn off your phone since the plane is almost ready for takeoff.”

Mickey looked up at the woman, all while listening to the voice on the receiving end. “What? He’s where?”

He ended the call, forgetting about the stewardess over his shoulder. He looked back to her, contemplating. “Ok, fine. I’m going.”

The stewardess went wide eyed  as he got up and passed by her, heading towards the door. He met Mandy on the stairs, who looked confused.

“We’re not going.”

* * *

Ian laughed as Kev sat Veronica on the bench. Ian had suggested they wear comfortable shoes for their adventure, but Vee had insisted that she could walk for hours in stilettos (also that walking shoes weren’t cute).

“I told you, Vee-“

“Yeah, yeah,” she interrupted. “It’s a good thing I got my man to carry me around, right baby?”

Kev rolled his eyes but laughed. “Right, because that’s all I’m good for?”

“Of course not,” she soothed, caressing his face. “You buy me things, too!” Fiona joined in on the laughter as she sat down next to her best friend.

“So, I went through most of my existence not coming here,” Lip offered as he rested against Ian. “Why now?”

They were on the 5th floor of the Water Tower up north on Michigan Ave. Debbie had suggested they go there first. Ian shrugged. “It’s a pretty nice place, ain’t it? Not exactly Mall of America, but I’m sure it comes close.”

“What’s the Mall of America?” Carl asked, adjusting Liam on his hip.

Fiona patted him on the back. “It has a pretty self-explanatory title, Carl. So, what? Do we just disperse and meet up somewhere?”

Ian nodded, liking that idea. “Sure. Do I have to remind anyone that we can’t shoplift from any of the stores here?” He spoke to everyone, but his eyes landed on Carl. Actually, everyone’s eyes were on him.

“Duh, I’m not stupid, Ian. I can’t lift a whole store even in our own neighborhood.”

There was a collective groan before Lip spoke. “Just don’t steal anything, ok, Carl?”

With the note, they were off, going to different stores in the grandiose building.

Ian had been with Lip for a while, going into Adidas and other stores he couldn’t possibly afford. But seeing all the expensive clothing gave Lip ideas of schemes they could run in under half an hour in that very mall. Ian reluctantly turned it down.

And around noon, everyone had agreed to meet in the underground food court.

“So,” Kev heaved a sigh as he sat down, “I’m, for one, loving this more than the Cermak Mall.”

“That’s a Mexican mall, Kev,” Vee explained. “You know not all malls are like that, right? That’s just a department store with different vendors. This place has licenses and shit.”

“It’s better,” Carl agreed, “but at least you can steal from the Mexican one.”

Fiona gathered up the children with Liam in tow. “We’re gonna get in line. It was a smart idea coming while everyone’s at work.”

Kev and Vee followed, going to a different line to buy their food, leaving Lip and Ian alone.

“So, uh, exactly how are things going at school?” Lip asked, propping his chin with his fist on the table.

“What?”

“Yeah, don’t gimme that. I know you’re not one to talk our ears off or anything, but I get the feeling some shit’s been going down. You made any rich enemies yet?”

Ian laughed. He’d avoided talking about the past 3 weeks when it came to anything but school work. He wasn’t going to give it up now. “Everything’s been…monotonous.” It was a lie, but he could testify to it.

Lip stared at his brother who did his best to keep his eyes on his hands at the table. “Monotonous? You sure?” He kept an eye as Ian shrugged. Leave it to Ian to be in any kind to have a death threat over his head and walk around with a smile.

Ian twitched at what he thought was the sound of his own name, but he had to be imagining it. He continued playing with his fingers as he imagined it again.

“Yo, drummer boy!” he heard clearly then. His heart dropped to his stomach before he turned around. How the holy fuck?

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he yelled to Mickey as he, his siblings, Karen Jackson and a few others from his junior class came down the escalator. He hoped more than anything to get a week away from Lakeshore High, and here Mickey was, bringing the damn school to him.

“Who’s this?” Fiona asked as she sat her food down at the table. Mickey gave a kind smile Ian knew to be fake, but Fiona smiled at the charming gesture.

“Are you Ian’s older sister he’s told us so much about?” Mickey asked with an airy voice. His smile was dazzling, and he almost looked sweet with his eyes crinkling at the sides.

“Yeah, I am. Do you want to borrow Ian for a second?”

“If you don’t mind, that’d be great.” Again with that million watt smile.

Fiona saw Ian roll his eyes and her smile faltered, but she still smacked the back of his head and told him to move along.

Ian looked back at the crowd of maybe 8 and realized Mandy was nowhere in sight. When they’d found a pretty empty space for privacy, Ian snapped. “What the fuck are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Berlin or Paris or some shit?”

Mickey shrugged, his bottom lip poked out a bit in innocence. “I’ve been to Europe before, a few times actually. We wanted to go somewhere new.”

“Oh, and the Water Tower is new?” Ian squinted his eyes to see clearly past Mickey’s bullshit.

“Well, no.” Mickey admitted. “But I heard you were here and thought maybe we could all hang out or something. You’re still a student at Lakeshore High.”

“Really, ‘cause I haven’t really been feelin’ all that welcomed.”

“So, you’re happy to see me, right?”

“I was happy before you and your crew got here, that’s for sure.”

Mickey shrugged, unfazed by Ian’s insults. “Well if you maybe wanna _go_ to Berlin or Paris, we could always take my jet.”

Ian stared at the hopeful, happy face. “You are unbelieveabl-“

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment-“

“ _-bly_ pushy and idiotic!” Ian finally got out.

Mickey chewed on his bottom lip before giving half a smile that reached his eyes, those blue and amazing eyes.

No, Ian couldn’t think that.

Ian turned on his heels, meeting back up with the group, seeing the apologetic smiles of Collin and Iggy.

“Ian!”

Mandy walked around the group with an free smile he’d never seen before. “There’s a ‘Welcome Home’ party for Kevin tonight. It’ll be fun.” She looked back before turning back to Ian. “So you’re coming, yeah. I’ll see you there.” And before Ian could answer, she was swaying back over. There he was, Kevin Oroscoe, in the flesh. His jaw dropped to the floor at how close the guy he would talk about for hours when he was younger stood just inches from him. He gave Ian a smile before turning to go back up the escalator with his hand wrapped around Mandy’s waist.

That is until his vision was blurred by the _other_ annoying blond he wished he never made his acquaintance. He rolled his eyes before she even spoke, not wanting to hear that squeak of a voice.

“I know what you’re gonna say, and honestly, I don’t wanna go either.”

“Oh come on,” Karen whined with her lips in a pout and her eyes droopy. “You have to go. It’s a party for Mandy and Kevin. And they invited you, right?”

Ian eyed her suspiciously, unused to the kind Karen was showing. “Yeah…I guess so.”

“But Mands forgot to mention something key.”

“And…what’s that?”

“That it’s a costume party. Yeah, Kevin just came from the premier of some Chinese superhero movie. I think it was supposed to be a remake of Spiderman or Superman or Kick-Ass- I dunno. But all I know is, I’m coming as Cat Woman.” She beamed a confident smile, and Ian quickly understood why she came to inform him: so she could brag. “And real leather looks _so_ good on me. You could _try_ and find a good quality costume, but don’t hurt yourself if you can’t afford anything over $10. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

And in an instant, she was back to her regular bitchy self.

They all followed, going back up the escalator and leaving Ian with his curious family.

“That was Kevin Oroscoe,” Debbie said in amazing, unfazed by family she’d learned to be billionaires just a measly three weeks ago with her brother. “Mandy Milkovich is dating Kevin Oroscoe.”

“By association, you’re the luckiest guy ever,” Lip agreed.

“But we can’t forget the little one,” Fiona said as she chimed in. “Who was the one that pulled you away in the first place? He’s cute. Does he like you?” she smiled brightly.

Ian breathed out heavily. “He likes torturing me.” Mickey glanced back as he made it to the top of the escalator. Did he fucking _wink_? “And I got invited to a costume party tonight.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re here then, huh, Super Man?”

“Oh no!” Ian argued. “If I’m going as any superhero, I’m goin’ as Spiderman!”

* * *

 Ian felt completely stupid.

Where had his confidence gone? He stood on the steps of the Milkovich Mansion, not much sound coming from the inside. He’s been standing there for a while, wondering if he should go in or not. He came all this way, he might as well, right?

But he didn’t want to stand out; he didn’t want to be at a party with people that didn’t even like him. God, why had he agreed to this?

The only thought that allowed his feet to finally trudge up the steps was that he wouldn’t be the only one. He’d blend in with everyone else, and maybe he could keep his head high enough before people began to believe that he wasn’t scared of them at all.

There were men nicely dressed at the door to welcome him, and they instructed how he should get to the ball room (they had a fucking ballroom in their house?) and there were men there, too.

Ian took in a heavy breath as the doors open, and he felt the air get caught in his throat as he saw the chandeliers hanging high above, illuminating the room filled with people…dressed elegantly.

He wouldn’t be able to recover from this. If he walked an inch further, he would die on the spot, he’s sure. So he turned to walk back to the exit, only to catch the blond turning the corner. Thinking on his feet, he moved inside, hiding behind the tables lined up with horderves. He poked his head in time to see Mickey enter. He should have been used to seeing Mickey drenched in his own money when it came to clothes, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the fresh blond and his tuxedo that fitted him the same way his other clothes did, to show off his nice physique- and the bow tie! And here Ian was, hiding behind a table because he listened to Karen Jackson. Why would he even listen to her? How strung up on stupid could he have been?

“Ian Gallagher!”

Speaking of the devil…

“Why are you sitting on the floor? Are you hiding?” She clung to her pink, shimmery, flowy skirt as to keep such an expensive piece away from Ian. “Oh, did you get the memo wrong? Did ya think it was a costume party?”

Ian glared up at her. “I thought you said something about leather.”

“Oh, I am,” she assured, going to her hair and pulling something free that kept her curls at bay in a bun: a leather tie. “It makes for a great choker, too.” She tugged at his coat. “So, what did you come as? Lemme see.”

Ian fought, using his strength but surprised at how much power the smaller girl held as she dragged him clumsily into a standing position. Seeing him properly, Karen gasped. “Are you Spiderman? Seriously?” She began to giggle but Ian tried to escape her iron grip. “Wait, where’s the mask? Is it in your jacket?”

The fight started then as Ian yanked and pulled while Karen pulled as well. He saw the evil smirk in her eyes just a second before she let go, giving Ian all the force he used as he pulled it on himself and lost his balance, desperately flailing as he fell to the ground, taking a few trays of shrimp with him.

When the clatter finally died off, the room had gone silent.

Karen tsked him, a look of disappointment on her face. “God, you poor people always gotta stand out? Is it because you have nothing but yourselves? I wouldn’t rely on that, y’know. Even that isn’t usually really great.” She shrugged, crossing her arms again.

Ian’s breathing got heavier, his face burning up. An unexpected hand appeared over his shoulder, darker than his. It was Kevin.

“Wanna hand, man?” He asked when Ian hadn’t taken a hold. Ian looked up and  saw Mandy was at his side, concern etched into her features. He finally took the hand and got up, Kevin’s free hand and Mandy’s brushing of the shrimp and lettuce that fell on him. Ian wanted to pick his head up, he did. But he was afraid of what face he might see if he did.

“I know what you were doing, but this only proves that the only low life here is you,” Kevin stated, his words sharp. “Mandy, help me get him to my room.” And with that, Mandy was guiding Ian along out of the room.

From the treatment he’d been getting from Mickey, he was a tad bit surprised when Kevin handed him over clothes that had hung in the closet, seemingly his own. “Here, you can change into that, though Spiderman is pretty awesome.”

Ian held the clothes in his hands. “Thanks…you…you don’t have to go to this extent, y’know. It’s really awesome, though.”

Kevin shrugged. “Don’t sweat it, and don’t feel like a burden.”

Ian felt the need to explain. “It’s just…this isn’t where I belong in the first place, y’know?”

“Mandy invited you, right? And nay friend of Mandy’s is a friend of mine.”

“Nah. She just invited me to be nice.”

Kevin chuckled. “Mandy’s not that kind of person. Believe me, I know. If she didn’t like someone, she’d outright say it. And to see her stand up for anyone like this, I’ve never seen her like that before.”

Ian nodded, not wanting to argue because he barely knew Mandy. “She seems very attentive, that’s for sure.”

“Attentive? That’s it, right there.” Kevin smiled when Ian looked confused. “You’re pretty special to her.” There was no hidden meaning, just a fact stated. Ian wasn’t expecting the subject to change so quickly. “As far as Milkovichs are concerned, I heard Mickey’s been giving you a hard time. And that you weren’t going down without a fight?”

Ian flinched at the accusation when Kevin raised an eyebrow, wondering if these words were true. He wasn’t in the wrong, but he sure felt like he was. “Well…”

But Kevin stopped him, offer words of explanation “Mickey’s lonely. And he covers it up with violence.”

“What? Lonely? But how? There are always people around.”

“He’s only with his parents for maybe a month or two a year. And from the moment he was born, he wasn’t treated as a son or friend, really. He’s been treated as an heir to the company. By a certain point, his brothers were established with what they would be destined to do, and Terry saw him as the one to take profit from his work. Can you even imagine how that feels?”

Could Ian imagine how it felt to have a destined life the moment he was born; to be brought up not as a person but a thing only to benefit something bigger than himself? He shook his head, the information boring down on him.

“Don’t lose to him,” Kevin requested.

“What?”

“I like you, Ian. And I think you have a good shot. You’ve shown as such so far. I’ll cheer you on, I promise.” He gave another warm smile, one different than the one Ian grew up seeing on posters. To think the guy he looked up to stood before him, giving him advice on how to deal with what he believed was his biggest problem, it was all so surreal.

“Now, get changed. I don’t wanna keep Mands waiting for long.”

Kevin left the room, and Ian started changing, the room looking brighter already with an understanding he hadn’t noticed before.

* * *

 Mickey had kicked himself repeatedly the moment Mandy and Kevin ran over to Ian’s aid. He’d hesitated, once again, trying to work up the nerve all over again once he saw the trouble Ian was in. The last thing Mickey wanted was to lose the progress he was making on Ian- and by his own little sister.

Mandy had came back into the ballroom, her red gown complimenting her pale, delicate skin. He was sure if Ian was hardwired the usual way, he’d be all over Mandy in an instant. If tonight and previous meetings weren’t a clear indication, Mandy held a mutual feeling. And he knew his sister wouldn’t let a simple a thing as Ian being attracted to _guys_ let her flail in attempts at winning over Ian’s affection, no matter what form it came in.

Not ten minutes later, Ian walked in with Kevin right behind him, and Mickey was sure if he’d been holding something in that moment, it would have dropped to the carpeted floor from the way he felt jaw slack and his muscles fail on him.

Ian wore an off gray tux, fitting him in places Mickey wasn’t even aware there were things to be left to the imagination. He tugged on the silver tie a bit, fiddling with the cuffs and running a hand through his red hair before it fell back to fall just over his eyes.

Kevin whispered something in Ian’s ear, and his green eyes widened before he nodded curtly and walked forward.

Mickey hated to admit it to himself: he liked the way Ian looked and the way he walked. He didn’t want to admit it but he actually _liked_ Gallagher.

And he walked right over to Mandy, who gave a shy smile before taking his hand and going off to dance amongst the others.

If Mickey had been holding something at that moment, he would’ve broken it, surely, given his sudden grip at seeing his little sister in the place he wanted to be.

This wasn’t about losing to anyone now.

It was about not having Ian Gallagher.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If this was interesting enough, I would happily continue. But just a prerequisite that the rating would change and I'd have to add a bit more of tags. Shit gets real here.  
> Lemme know what ya think. Should I continue or let the dram die, so to speak?


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